


The Colorless Silence

by Cybra



Series: Inheritance AU [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Family Feels, Gen, seeming major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/pseuds/Cybra
Summary: (Re-posted from original post on tumblr.)  Della and Donald, alone in the main conference room at the Bin, are forced to admit that McDuck Enterprises is no longer at the top of the heap and that they are failing their uncle's legacy.





	The Colorless Silence

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, this was originally posted on my tumblr several months back. This scene replaces the first time we see Scrooge in the pilot. Likely very AU stuff about the Spear.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** _Ducktales_ belongs to the Walt Disney Company.

The conference room was silent, the passage of time marked only by sunlight shining through the window creeping slowly over the walls.  Only two ducks remained at the conference table sitting opposite one another, the right and left hands of the missing occupant of the chair at the head of the table.

“It’s official,” Della began grimly, “when Uncle Scrooge gets back, he’s going to _kill_ us.” 

“He’s not coming back,” Donald said dully.

Historical research, experimental tech, and underwater exploration—three of their uncle’s favorite things—were having their funding cut in order to try and keep offices and factories in St. Canard and Spoonerville afloat.  It had been a tough choice that in the end came down to a simple-yet-cruel numbers game:  Only two people lost their jobs in this deal, not the hundreds that worked in those cities.

That had actually been the easier bit of news to take than the fact that Glomgold Industries had finally surpassed McDuck Enterprises.

It was easy to ignore the company’s decline when they were still on top.  A few offices and factories in two cities struggling was just typical business, not evidence of a far larger problem, a problem neither of the two ducks sitting in the darkened conference room had wanted to admit to.  But now that Flintheart Glomgold had taken the top spot, just how far they’d fallen and were continuing to fall became impossible to ignore.  True, the fortune Scrooge McDuck had built would last another three hundred years at the current rate of decline, longer if they removed the least profitable branches to stem the proverbial bleeding, but it felt as if they’d spit in the eye of the man who’d sacrificed so much—his childhood, his entire adult life—to the goal of making his family, _their_ family, as prosperous as possible and ensuring they’d never face the same poverty that he’d clawed his way up from.

Neither said anything as the old arguments distantly echoed through the room:

Donald’s accusations that Della was too reckless and causing the company to take on too much risk.

Della’s retorts that Donald was too timid and would cause the company to stagnate.

Both were right.  Both were wrong.  Their uncle’s hard work would crumble if they didn’t achieve a balance, but both were too proud to extend the olive branch first.

Normally it was a screaming match that would last until both were exhausted and hoarse.  Today, however, they were content to let the silence do the arguing for them as what little color that was left in their worlds gave way to oppressive gray.  In a way, placing the last of their uncle’s favorite departments on the chopping block had been them giving up Scrooge’s influence that had once filled their lives with bright colors and adventure.

Oh yes.  Scrooge _would_ kill them.

 _‘When he comes back,’_ Della thought sadly.

 _‘If he comes back,’_ Donald mused bitterly.

Della held her right hand in her left, palm up so both of them could gaze at her right index finger.  The unnatural pale silver of the scar where she’d pricked her finger on a cursed artifact almost perfectly blended in with her white feathers.  Neither had to ask to know what their twin was remembering:

The buried temple dedicated to the moon.

The Spear of Selene glowing a silver white as the rest of the inner chamber lit up with hidden writing only visible in the reflected light of the moon.

The cry of agony and the sight of ruby red blood changing to white-silver bringing Della out of the trance she’d been unexpectedly pulled into.

Scrooge’s left palm bleeding freely—first red and then silver—from where he’d clutched the spearhead in it, replacing her blood on the metal with his.

Then blinding white and a narrow escape as the temple collapsed, only Donald and Della remaining, the now black Spear in her hands.

 _‘If my will had been stronger, I could’ve resisted the Spear’s pull,’_ Della thought, clutching her hand tightly.

 _‘If I’d reacted a little faster, I could’ve stopped Della from grabbing the Spear in the first place,’_ Donald thought, his own hands clenched on his knees.

 _‘Uncle Scrooge would still be here to fix all of this if it hadn’t been for me,’_ both thought, neither voicing it aloud, neither suspecting that the other felt the same way.

Instead they simply sat there in silence as the sun creeped across the wall and plunged the room into increasingly darker shades of gray.


End file.
